Windows to the Soul
by imagination-running
Summary: It’s after the Final Battle, and Ron is thinking about life, his place in it, and many other things. Ron’s 1st person POV. Postwar pregraduation. Gendrama Please RR. oneshot


**Windows to the Soul**

**By: stu14688 **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter anything, Coca-Cola, or Dr. Pepper. Please don't sue.**

**Summary: It's after the Final Battle, and Ron is thinking about life, his place in it, and many other things. Ron's 1st person POV. Post-war; pre-graduation. Gen/drama **

It's over now. The Final Battle is next week's lesson in History of Magic, as is the Second War. Harry did it. He brought the demise of the worst dark wizard in history. I've never been more proud of my best friend. I didn't get to see the battle, but then again, I'm not sure I would have wanted to see it. As happy as I am that this war is over, though, I feel torn in pieces. You see, Harry may not make it. He may still die. Dumbledore found him after hours of searching the Forbidden Forest. Every able-bodied Order and DA member was scouring that forest after the battle ended. When Harry was finally found, he was one hair's breadth from death. At first, I did not want to believe that he was that close to dying, but as I watched over Madame Pomfrey's shoulder when she opened his eyelid to gather his vital signs, I could not deny the truth any longer. I've never seen eyes so blank in my life, and I never hope to see them again.

Now, here I stand, at the door of the infirmary watching my two best friends in the entire world. Harry is lying on the bed, eyes closed, skin white as a sheet, except for under his eyes where dark circles reside from months of sleepless nights. He is far too thin, and his arms are covered in briar cuts from the Forest. I know – although due to the covers, I can't see – that he has a large scar from a slash on his chest from a cutting hex and that his legs are in worse shape than his arms. His lip is busted, and there are several bruises covering the length of his body. He looks terrible. His shallow breathing indicates that he could still die from his injuries. The part I can't see, though – the part that would hurt the most to look at – is his eyes. The haunted, grief and guilt stricken look in them nearly killed me the first time I noticed that it was there. I'm not sure if I could take it right now; although, it may alleviate some of the fears I've had since I saw his blank eyes of earlier. At least if they held a look of pain, it would mean there is still life left.

I can't think of things such as these now – my other best friend needs me to be strong. Hermione is sitting in a chair beside Harry's bed. She still has tears coming from her eyes. She has her hand laid gently over his, and on occasion, she will brush the hair back from his forehead. She isn't saying a word, just watching him. He is among many in the hospital wing, but I can tell, even from this distance, that she does not notice the others. It would literally kill her if Harry were to die. She would simply go to bed and die from grief and heartache.

When Harry was brought out of the forest and she got a glimpse of him, she gripped my arm for dear life. As I hugged her, I could feel her shaking uncontrollably. We followed Dumbledore into the infirmary, and when Madame Pomfrey made her original assessment, Hermione nearly fainted from the knowledge of how bad Harry was. It took both Remus and I to get her to the common room and to calm her down enough for her to think straight. Remus, being almost as distraught as Hermione, was not much help. Finally, I managed to get her to sleep with a small dose of Harry's dreamless sleeping potion. Madame Pomfrey had given him a supply of it for when his nightmares were unbearable. I desperately wanted to go and see Harry, but I didn't because not only would the medi-witch not allow it, but Hermione needed me to be with her and to be strong. I stayed with her all night in the common room, and never once did I sleep.

As I sat beside Hermione's sleeping figure, all I could think of is how I was playing the wrong role. You see, in our little group – I hear other students call us "The Trio" – we each have a part that we play. Hermione is the brains of our group. Her job is to make sure that Harry and I pass each year by forcing us to do homework and study. During our adventures, Hermione is the level head between the three of us. She keeps us in line. She is also the encourager. I don't know how many times she has had to reassure Harry over the past couple of years that he is a powerful wizard and a good person. She also encourages me about my keeping abilities and my ability to be the friend that Harry needs. She does her job really well.

My job in our friendship is to be funny. I keep things light by making sure that Harry doesn't brood himself to death and that Hermione doesn't move into the library. I tell the jokes and remind them of when to eat. My job has become doubly hard the past couple of years, especially in regards to Harry. It's hard to get him to eat and even harder to get him to laugh. Somehow, though, Hermione and I have managed to keep him sane and somewhat healthy. I can only hope that I have done my job right.

Harry has the last job: to be strong. He brought Hermione and I together in friendship, and it became his duty to keep it that way. He has been the strength and courage of our group. In seven years of knowing and living with Harry, not once have I seen him cry. To be honest, up until Easter break of our sixth year, I never even saw how much Harry truly hurt. That was the only time I got a good glimpse of the pain that radiated in his eyes. That moment scared me, but he remained strong. He became everyone's hope, the leader of the DA, a member of the front line in the Second War, and a formidable enemy of You-Know-Who. He trained during every spare moment for what happened yesterday, and although it was very subtle and hardly recognizable, he was preparing himself and everyone else for his death. He never gave up hope on living, but he prepared for the worst. At a time when he needed to rely on someone else's strength the most, he became everyone's strength. I can't imagine how hard that must have been.

As I sat beside Hermione last night, I began to understand how hard it is to be strong for someone when you yourself feel so extremely weak and broken. I was at a loss for what to do. She was sleeping peacefully for the moment, but I knew that the moment she awakened, she would either cry or get that dead look in her eyes. I did not know how I was going to handle that because I too wanted someone to hold me and allow me to empty my soul of its anguish, fear, and sorrow. However, I had no one there to hold me; they were all out caring for the wounded or were wounded themselves.

When Hermione did wake up this morning, she immediately left for the hospital wing. I didn't think that Madame Pomfrey would want us in there, but after one look at us, she relented. We never said a spoken word. Although, after seven years of friendship, we know each other well enough that it only takes looks to communicate.

I stayed for as long as I could. Hermione hasn't left Harry's side since we went in there this morning. I went to look in on Fred, Ginny, Dad, and Bill when I felt my inner strength waning. It's hard to sit and look at your best friend and surrogate brother hang on to life by a thread without breaking. I think Hermione understood why I had to leave for a while. No amount of jokes could bring Harry out of his comatose state, and the quiet was far too much for me to bear.

It's now about three in the afternoon, and most of the people who were part of the Final Battle have been left to get some rest at home. I've been with my family for most of the late morning and afternoon, helping Mum take care of things. Mum's in a right state about Harry, but she hides it well. I can see it in her eyes, though. Mum can't hide any emotion that's in her eyes. Very few people can really – Harry being one of them. Once he mastered occlumency, Harry was able to mask his feelings in every possible way. Except that one time during Easter break of our sixth year. Yes, I saw everything then…

**Flashback**

We had just gone to the dorm room to go to bed for the night. Hermione, Harry, and I were exhausted after our defense practice with Dumbledore. He had worked us hard for some three hours. We had had an intense duel that had ended with Harry and Dumbledore facing off. Dumbledore was using power that I would have never imagined possible, but Harry wasn't far behind. He used simpler spells, but he used them with a speed and efficiency I wouldn't have thought possible. However, he did pull off some rather stunning magic at integral times. Dumbledore won in the end, but even I could tell that he had had a time trying to pull it off.

As we left the room, Harry was quiet, which was usual behavior for him after practice. The practice only served as a reminder to him just how much weight he bore on his shoulders. No matter how hard we tried, Hermione and I would never be able to take his place or to take the task of killing Voldemort from him. As always, we would only be able to help him reach the end, never actually go into the task with him. We would hug him at the door, and that would be it. We shared as much of the burden as we could, but we knew it wasn't nearly enough. Harry never said anything about it, though. He thanked us for what we did, and trudged on through life.

Harry has this habit before bed: he pulls his bed curtains around him before he pulls off his glasses. He also puts them back on before he opens the curtains in the morning. Therefore, I never really see him without his glasses on. Well, after we went to bed that night, I had a thought that just could not wait 'till morning to be told, so I went to Harry's bed and pulled the curtains back in a flash. I didn't realize what kind of reaction that would bring about, but I soon found out. I scared the living daylights out of my best friend! He sat up and had his wand on my chest before could even register that he was still awake.

I immediately looked at him, and that's when I saw it. Fear. Pain. Grief. Total exhaustion. All this and more was staring me in the face. It only took a second for him to master everything, and to remove his wand from it's intimidating position. In that second, however, I totally forgot what was so important that I had to tell Harry right at that moment. I could not think of anything except that Harry was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders – and it was killing him. In that one second, I saw it all, and it tore me to pieces. I don't remember what my excuse was for disturbing him, but he bought it anyway.

Once Harry's curtains were closed again, I turned to the other boys, none of whom was asleep yet, and I told them to let Harry have a lie in the following morning. The next morning before Harry woke up, I talked to Hermione about what had happened and what I saw. She had merely nodded and said that she had noticed it back in the summer when Harry had been brought back from the Dursleys' house. When I asked her what we could do for him, she only said to be there.

_"Be there for him, Ron. He needs us now more than ever for assurance and support. Just be there."_

At the time, I wanted to do more than that. I even talked to Dumbledore and told him that Harry should not have to be the one to bear all the weight. Although Dumbledore agreed with my assessment, he basically told me the same thing Hermione did, and that irked me. I probably grated on Harry's already wracked nerves for a while after that because I was constantly playing the protective big brother towards him. After putting up with my foolishness for a couple of weeks, he told me at wand point to quit treating him like a little kid. When I expressed my concerns, he told me he was glad that I felt that way, but that there was nothing I could do to change the situation. He told me to just accept things the way they were and to go on with life the best I can. I asked him how I was supposed to continue to live normally knowing that my best friend might die soon, and his response was something I'll never forget.

_"The same way I do, Ron. Just think of the time you have now, and enjoy it. Don't be an idiot and quit using common sense, but don't block everyone away. I worry about your and Hermione's lives more than my own, but there's nothing I can do to change the situation for now. Just accept things as they are, and keep going._

What amazed me was that he worried about my life above his own. Now I knew that he has a "saving people thing," but that was his life we were talking about. He didn't seem bothered that he might die in the end. Hermione explained to me that the Dursleys never put much stock in his life. They told him he was useless and ungrateful. She said that a part of him still believed that, and as a result, he didn't put as much thought into his own fate as he did into other's.

**Flashback ended**

I still don't understand how someone could belittle a child like that, but I now understand Harry's frame of mind better. It makes me wonder if sometimes he's fought to survive just to spite those who wish him dead. I find myself feeling guilty now for all the times I've looked at Harry as a rich, famous kid rather than a person who needed desperately to be told that someone cares. I suppose that I needed to see a moment of Harry with his feelings unmasked. If I hadn't, then I'm not sure that I would have supported him the way I have.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey has just come out of her office and ushered Hermione out of the hospital wing for a while. Apparently, Harry needs to have his dressings changed and needs to be given his potions. Hermione looks exactly how I feel. Gosh, Harry needs to wake soon; I'm not sure if either Hermione or I can take much more of this.

I think I'll take Hermione up to the special dorm that Dumbledore set up for my family, and see if Ginny and Mum can't help Hermione take her mind off things. Personally, I think that I'll have a game of chess with Dad. I can talk to him pretty well. Maybe Moony will come by later. Mum said that he was sent to stay with Kingsly, Moody, and Tonks for the day at Headquarters. I hope that he is better than he was last night, for his sake, not mine.

Hermione looks exhausted. Her own minor injuries are still visible. Neither one of us is saying a word as I guide her to the Weasley chamber. She knows I'm here, and she knows I'm hurting. We're holding hands. In my fourth, fifth, and part of my sixth year, I would have been delighted to walk hand-in-hand down the halls together with no one to disturb us. Now, however, I find that although I'm glad to hold her hand, I'm also glad that there is nothing romantic about our actions. I could never be the boyfriend she needs, but I can be the brother she never had. She pats my hand with her free one as a way to say she is there should I need to talk. I squeeze hers to say the same thing. She looks at me, and I know she understands and is thankful.

_Eyes are the windows to the soul_…how true that is. Just now, as we exchanged one look, I saw the fear and worry in hers. She is also weary from her emotions and all that has happened within the last forty-eight hours. I wish I could do something, but I can't. I don't have the ability to make Harry wake up and suddenly be the happiest person on the planet. Once he does come out of his coma, he will be an emotional wreck. After everything he's seen and done, it's going to take a miracle to get him past it all. For now, I just hope he doesn't die; we can work on his emotional problems later.

Why does life have to be so unfair? Why is it that a handful of students have to be the front lines in an adults' war? Why did the one who's already been through more than most have to be the hero again? Why did so many have to die or get irreversibly hurt? Most importantly, though, why did Harry and Hermione have to see so much of it with their own eyes? Hermione watched as her parents were killed. She also has been closer to death than me, what with what happened in the Department of Mysteries. I hear from Ginny and her dorm-mates that she still has nightmares from that night.

Then there's Harry. He had a Voldemort-sent memory of his own parents' deaths back on Halloween, and then there was, of course, Cedric and Sirius. None of that even includes everything else that happened before Voldermort's second rise. Then, I wasn't even with them through most of the Final Battle because of Mum (partly) and my skills at strategy. I was needed to stay behind and lead the younger people rather than join in with my friends. I was in a safer area and the last to the battle. My two best friends were in the worst of places and among the first on the scene.

"Do you remember how happy Harry looked when he taught us in the DA back in our fifth year, especially when people were conjuring protronuses?" I was startled out of my thoughts by Hermione's question. That was the first words she'd said today. When I look at her I notice her eyes gazing towards the spot where the Room of Requirement is. It does bring back many memories.

"Yes. He was in his element then. He knew what he was talking about and people were listening to him rather than gossiping about him. I think he really enjoyed it. I think he still does enjoy it, as a matter of fact."

We stopped walking and are now just standing in front of a seemingly blank wall. She looks at me again. "Let's go in, Ron. I know you want to be with your family, but please just for a few hours, let's go in and forget the world."

I understand how she feels. I also want to just forget the world exists, so I nod and let her pick how the room will look. When the door finally appears, I open it to find it set up like a muggle room. Only, it has some magical elements too, like the moving pictures. The pictures were of Harry, Hermione, and me throughout our years at Hogwarts. Some were also made at the Burrow or at Headquarters. Along one wall, there is a bookcase and a movie case. Harry and Hermione had once explained to me what a movie was after I found one in Ginny's room over the summer. Hermione had packed it by accident when she was gathering her things for the year. When I turn to the next wall, I find a television with a movie player on top. Dad had shown me a few pictures of those before. There is also a corner full of games: some muggle and some magical. There is even a wizard's chess set. In the middle of the room is a couch facing the television. The couch has an ample amount of throw blankets and pillows on it. Off in another corner, I see a picnic basket and a chest filled with ice. Inside the ice-filled chest is also some canned drinks that read Coca-Cola and Dr. Pepper. I'm not sure what they are, but I'm game to try them. I also notice a case of butterbeers sitting beside the chest. It is like a haven for any muggle or magic person.

Hermione walks in without even noticing how it all looks. I get the feeling that she came here often. The first thing she does is grab one of the Coca-Colas to drink before moving on to the couch where she takes off her shoes and lays down. I go and sit at her feet.

"You've been here before, haven't you?"

She looks at me sadly and nods. "Yeah, Harry and I come here a lot to get away from the world. We always meant to bring you sometime, but there was never a good time. Normally, we only came late at night when we couldn't sleep."

I feel slightly jealous because I was never invited to join them. I let the feeling pass, however because I know just how little time the two of them spend together. They've been secretly dating since the beginning of October. In an effort to keep Voldemort from finding out, they only let very few people find out, me being one of those people. Actually, they asked me about them dating before they even became a couple. To tell the truth, I felt a bit honored by that.

I guess I have a look of jealousy on my face because Hermione immediately sits up and starts to cry again. All the while, she is apologizing profusely about leaving me out of things. I do the only thing that seems right for the moment – hug her.

"Shhh. Shhh. It's okay, Hermione. I'm not mad; I understand. Things have been hectic lately, and you and Harry rarely get to be alone. Don't cry. It's okay…"

Finally, her sobs quiet and she sits back into the couch and stares at the blank T.V. screen. She is lost in thought, and I wish I know what those thoughts are. Without looking up, she starts to speak.

"I've seen him cry, you know. It was in here about a month after we started dating. Neither of us had been able to sleep. That dream of his parents was bothering him, and the memory of my own was bothering me…"

She trails off into thought for a few seconds before turning to me looking as anxious as I've ever seen her. "I didn't know what to do, Ron. He's Harry Potter for crying out loud. He hardly ever tells us what's bothering him, and there he was – broken. It was one of the most gut-wrenching things I've ever seen. I mean, I'd seen him upset before, like when he told us the prophecy and when he came back from the Dursley's after fifth year, but what I saw that night was Harry's soul. His tattered and torn soul."

She starts to cry again and I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her next to me.

"What did you do?"

She thinks for a moment before answering. "I did just what you're doing now. I held him and let him cry on my shoulder. The whole time, I just told him that it would be over soon and that he would always have me and you there for him…When he finally calmed down, he slept like he hadn't in what had probably been ages. Not a single nightmare that night."

I remember a time in about November when Harry seemed revitalized. "I think I know about the time you're talking about. He didn't have nightmares for about two weeks in November. It did him a world of good, Hermione."

I give her shoulders a squeeze to let her know I'm proud of her. Although I wish I'd known about Harry's being upset earlier, I understand why they didn't tell me. Harry, I'm sure, didn't want everyone to know, and Hermione would have complied with his request easily. She may have thought I should know, but if it wasn't too irrational, she would side with Harry – always had and always will, I presume.

"Thanks, I'm proud of you too. You've been the best friend anyone could ask for, and not just to Harry. To me too. Thank you." She whispers the words, but that doesn't make them any less meaningful. I can hear the small smile on her face as she speaks.

We sit there for a little while longer. We talk a bit, but mostly we just stay in a comfortable silence. As much as I want to stay awake, I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and I feel my brain getting foggy. Before I know it, I'm asleep.

* * *

"Mr. Weasley."

_Someone is shaking my shoulder. Can't they just leave? I'm sleeping here._

"Mr. Weasley, I need you to wake up. I have something to tell you."

_Uchh. They're getting louder, and it's hurting my head. No, I just want to sleep. Something tells me that if I wake up and think, I won't be happy. Just leave me in peace, please._

"Mr. Weasley, I'm not asking anymore. It's time to wake up. Something very important is going on, and I need you and Ms. Granger there."

_Merlin, won't they quit shouting! For crying out loud, I'm asleep!_

"There's been a change in Harry's condition. I need you and Hermione there to help keep him calm. Wake up."

_Harry. Harry's condition. What is this man talking about? Harry's asleep, like I'd like to be. Come to think of it, who is the person shaking me incessantly._

"Here, let me try, Professor."

_Hermione's voice. Ahh, she'll probably let me sleep._

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! WAKE- UP, HARRY NEEDS US!"

I jump at the amplified voice in my ear.

"Good grief, Hermione. What did ya do that for? That hurt!"

She looks rather angry, but doesn't remark with a clever come-back.

"Professor Dumbledore's been trying to wake you. Harry may be waking up, and Madame Pomfrey wants us to go down there in case he needs someone to calm him down. Now, get your lazy butt out of bed and let's go!"

Okay, now things are starting to register. Harry's waking up, and needs us. Then, that means…

"Hermione! He's alive! He's going to live!"

I just noticed Professor Dumbledore standing beside the couch. He answers.

"Yes, Ron, Harry's alive. He still has a long way to go, though. Please, we must hurry. Follow me."

Hermione grabs my arm and leads me through the door, which disappears as soon as it's shut. I try to think as we rush through the halls, but my mind is numb. I'm numb. I don't even know what time it is, what day it is, or how Dumbledore knew where we were. I'm just following my best friend and my mentor like a sheep.

_He still has a long way to go, though. _Those words reverberate through my head like a sick mantra. I don't even know what kind of condition Harry's in: emotionally, physically, intellectually, anything. How am I supposed to keep him calm when I myself am in such a state of chaos and confusion. Hermione and Dumbledore are saying something, but none of it is registering. I hope that they're not talking to me.

There it is. The door to the hospital wing. Inside that room lies my best friend of seven years. Oh, how I hate this. I know which bed is his. It's the one closest to Madame Pomfrey's office. She designated it as Harry's Bed back in our fourth year after the third task. She said that she figures it would be easier to have him near her office so she wouldn't have to walk as far to check on him. Ever since then, every time he's went to the infirmary for something, that's the bed he ends up in. Let me tell you, he's used it frequently in the past couple of years. Training got tough some days, and he was injured a lot because of it. Then, there's Quidditch. Madame Pomfrey all but banned him from it. Once she said that if she didn't know better, she'd say that Harry had a romantic interest in her. Hermione and I found it funny. Harry blanched.

He learned some good stuff while in the hospital wing, though. Somehow, he talked Madame Pomfrey into giving him some lessons on basic healing so he could take care of himself when small things happened. I think the nurse knew that he actually wanted to learn in case he needed to help someone while during the battle, but she didn't say anything and agreed to give him the lessons. In turn, he taught quite a bit of it to the DA. Healing is some pretty fascinating stuff. I could never do it as a career, but as general knowledge, it's not too bad.

Hermione has just opened the door and is beckoning me to come inside. I know that Harry's alive and most likely moving, but I'm still scared to death. I can see my mum, dad, and Moony already there. Slowly I follow Hermione in. She looks as scared as I feel, and suddenly I remember that she needs me to be the strong one. I reach for her hand and stand a bit taller as we walk down the long row between the beds lining the walls.

When we finally reach the other end, Hermione is immediately at Harry's side holding his hand. He's mumbling something in his sleep, and I know he's having a nightmare. I make to wake him up, but am held back by Madame Pomfrey.

"We can't wake him. Believe me, we've tried. He'll have to wake up naturally, but when he does watch out. My guess is that he's reliving the Final Battle."

That news only makes me want to wake him more. I don't want him reliving that battle, especially not now so soon after it happened. He's starting to thrash about, and I reach down to hold him so that he doesn't hurt himself. He'll do it too. I've waken up before to find that he's just knocked himself in the head with whatever was lying next to him. His nightmares scare me, and I'm on the reality side of the dream. I can't imagine what it's like from his side of things.

Hermione is stroking his hair back and whispering so that only he can hear, and I'm trying to keep him somewhat still. That's when I notice it. The magic in the air is electrified. I do the only thing that makes sense: let go of Harry, grab Hermione, and pull her away from our best friend. As quickly as I do that, Harry shouts something I've never heard before at the top of his voice and throws his hand forward issuing out a beam of the whitest light I've ever seen. I have to shield my eyes with my forearm, it is so bright. I hear as the light hits the stone wall of the castle and blasts a hole through it. It was uncontrolled, wandless magic. The sight of the hole, kinda makes me feel almost sorry for his Aunt Marge.

Then, suddenly, everything is still. There's not a sound except the heavy breathing of Harry. The magic in the air is almost dead. I chance a look at Harry and find that he's awake, but clearly scared out of his mind. He's looking frantically around trying to figure out what had just happened, where he is, and, most likely, why he's here. Something tells me that he doesn't realize that less than a week ago, he killed the most evil wizard to ever walk the face of the earth.

I watch the emotions run rampant on Harry's face. No one seems to want to move or answer the gibberish that is issuing out of Harry's mouth indicating coherent thought, if not coherent speech, has returned to him. After a couple of seconds, I decide to take the initiative.

"Harry. Harry, breathe, mate – breathe. Calm down; it was a nightmare. We're here; we're safe. You're here; you're safe."

I'm gripping his arms tightly and looking him directly in the face, which is only mere centimeters from mine. His eyes are darting everywhere, and he is still shaking. He's visibly relaxing, though. Hermione is rearranging his pillows so that he can lean back on them and still sit up, and together we get him to lean into them. Harry still looks wild-eyed, and I know he has plenty of questions. I'm sure that they'll be answered soon enough.

I hear stirring behind me, saying that the others have managed to get over their shock. Moony steps forward first.

"How do you feel, Harry?" I watch as Moony's eyes rake over Harry's thin frame, pale face, dark circled eyes, and messier than usual hair.

Harry doesn't reply for a moment, but finally, he makes eye contact. "Well, first, I'm getting a headache from squinting so much. Other than that, I feel like I've been hit with the Hogwarts Express – twice."

Hermione hands him his glasses, and a small grin forms on Moony's face as he responds.

"Well, that's better than I expected. Personally, I thought that you'd feel like you were hit at least three times."

Harry turns his head to glance out of the window. He sighs, and I know that things are coming back to the forefront of his memory. "No, Remus, three times would have killed me. I can only take so much magical force in one setting…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but Harry never turned to look at him. I know that he acknowledged the presence of the headmaster, though.

"Harry, what do you mean by 'magical force?'"

Harry laughed a rather bitter laugh before answering. " 'If I thought I would help you by letting you put off telling me what happened, I would do it, but putting things off will only make them harder to tell later.' It's the cemetery all over again, isn't it, Professor?"

I don't understand what Harry is talking about, but I guess it has something to do with our fourth year. That is the only thing I can remember happening in connection with a cemetery. I think I'll just hear this one out.

Dumbledore nods solemnly, even though Harry, who has yet to turn to face anyone, doesn't see it. "Yes, Harry. I need to know what happened."

Hermione has placed her hand on Harry's back and is gently rubbing it. She isn't saying a word, but I get the feeling she doesn't need to speak to be heard by Harry. Ever so slowly, Harry turns back to face us. His eyes are red, but he isn't crying. For some reason, I'm thankful.

He reached out, patted Hermione's shoulder, and whispered, "Thanks, Hermione. You always know what I need." She just smiled at him and moved her hand to hold his.

I want to say something, but what can I say? Harry looks at me and nods. I understand. He knows that I'm there to help if he needs it. His nod is a way to thank me. It's a best friend thing, I suppose.

Finally, he turns back to the five adults: Mum, Dad, Dumbledore, Moony, and Madame Pomfrey. They are anxiously looking back. I've never seen Harry look older, even before the Final Battle he had an air about him that was youthful enough to make us believe he had the energy to do battle. Now, however, he just looks battle-worn, weary, and old. The adults see it too. Mum bites her lip to keep from crying and Dad just puts a comforting arm around her. I can see Madame Pomfrey just itching to use her various potions and spells on him. Moony looks down ashamedly, and Dumbledore seems to age before my eyes as well. I suppose some part of them all hoped that he would suddenly just become the seventeen-year-old that he is, but apparently, that will never happen. He's simply seen too much.

After a long pause, Harry casts his eyes downward and speaks. "I did...I fulfilled my duty. He's dead."

I thought he was going to say more. Some morbid part of me wants to know how Harry killed You-Know-Who. Did he AK the monster, kill him muggle style, what? It's obvious, though, that Harry isn't going to say what happened exactly. I chance a look at Dumbledore, and I know that he isn't satisfied.

"Harry, that doesn't tell us what happened. Go through it, exactly."

Harry's eyes flash. "No. I won't tell you what happened. All you need to know is that the deed is done. I killed him. I'm now a murderer, just as he. There'll be no details this time, Professor, as they're not important."

Dumbledore is not perturbed. "Harry, the world will want to know what happened. Do you not think they have a right to know?"

Harry's jaw is set, which is an indication that his mind is too. He's not going to say a word about the fight between him and the Dark Lord.

"No, Professor, I don't think that they have a right to know. They don't know for sure what happened in the First War, and there's no reason for them to know the second time around. All anyone needs to know is that the monster that dared call himself a lord is now dead. There's no coming back this time. It's a secret I'll take to my grave. Now, please, quit asking me about it. I think, considering what I have just done, that I have a right to that ask for that much. One secret, that's all I want, Professor. There's no need for the entire world to share in my nightmares."

No one says a word because we all know what he said is true. He does have the right to decide. He also has a right to a bit of privacy about the battle. Dumbledore lowers his head knowing that he isn't going to get any specific information out of Harry. Mum has silent tears streaming down her face. Dad is still holding her. I hear Madame Pomfrey shuffle away, and I'm pretty sure it's to go get some potions and such for Harry.

I look over to my best friends. Harry has lain back down and closed his eyes. He looks terribly weak. Hermione is watching him, but then turns to me. Her eyes are glossed over with unshed tears. She knows that Harry is hurting, but he won't tell anything. She understands, but it still leaves her worrying.

I stay as long as I can again. Eventually, it gets too unbearable for me, though. After a few more moments, I get up to leave. Mum looks at me, and I know an inquiry is about to come.

"Ron, dear, where are you going?"

I sigh. "I just…I need to walk around for a while. I'll probably be on the Quidditch pitch if anyone needs me."

Mum looks at me disapprovingly as she speaks. Apparently, she thinks Harry is asleep again. "Ron, I believe you should stay here. Harry needs his friends."

I watch Harry and notice his jaw clench ever so slightly. He's always hated being treated like a weak child. He opens his eyes, looks at Mum, and quietly speaks. "It's okay, Mrs. Weasley. I understand, and quite frankly, if I could, I'd go flying with him. There's nothing he can do here right now anyway."

As I walk away, I notice Mum looking like she wants to argue, but Harry has a way of looking at a person that causes the person to keep their mouth shut. He's like Dumbledore in some weird, younger way. People don't question him as much as they did in the past. He walks into a room, and people will glance at him in a reverenced way. The respect he commands is almost palpable. It sorta freaked him out when it first started happening about November of our sixth year. He's gotten used to it, though. He now can lead a room with ease and without saying a word. It's amazing, really. Even Hermione and I have a bit of that since we're his best friends. I didn't know what to do when people started to listen to and follow me. It's not like I made crazy demands or anything, but when I had an idea, it was heard and considered. Many times, my idea was even accepted. To say I was amazed would be an understatement.

Hermione was different. She's always had a bossy nature about her. When people started paying more attention to her, she got the SPEW look in her eye. She wanted to make big changes, fast. She made a couple of big suggestions at first, and I noticed people's respect towards her starting to diminish. Harry and I talked to her, and although she got angry, she listened when Harry spoke. He had to get rather gruff to get her to listen, but even she isn't immune to his commanding air.

I wanted to laugh so bad that night. Here was the Hogwarts chief Know-It-All, and bossy to boot, being put in her place by the renowned, yet reserved Boy-Who-Lived. She finally saw to reason, but still didn't like it. Harry told her to wait for the big things. He said that although people were willing to listen to us more, they wouldn't like it if we tried to do huge things like free the house-elves. He even went so far as to tell her that SPEW wasn't all that important at this point in history. She got riled then, I could see it in her eyes. Harry did too, he told me, but he didn't back down. She was wrong, for once, and Harry knew it. He wanted to save her some embarrassment. After it was all said and done, I certainly didn't mind rubbing it in. I rubbed salt in that wound for weeks until Harry realized what I was doing and then he put me in my place. Hermione smirked once, and that was the end of it all.

* * *

It's now been two weeks since Harry woke up. He finally was allowed to leave the hospital wing three days ago. We had a huge party for his return in the common room that lasted most of the night. Somehow, Seamus, Dean, and Colin – believe it or not – managed to sneak in some firewhiskey. Harry refused to drink it, but well, put simply, I didn't. Harry actually had to levitate me to my bed once the party finally ended, which I don't remember how that actually came about. I do know that the next morning, Harry and Hermione were at a table in the common room handing out vials of hangover potion. They must have stayed up the rest of the night making as much as they did. I saw them snickering as the rest of us took the potion and slept for a better part of the day.

Hermione told me later, as Harry napped, that she had helped Dobby clean the tower while Harry took people to bed and made the potion. I don't know how he managed to get up the girl's staircase, but he did. She also told me that it was actually Harry who called an end to the party. Apparently, he made the spiked punch vanish and sent the younger students and the sober students to bed at around three o'clock. I imagine that didn't sit to well with those who weren't so drunk they didn't notice or passed out. Hermione nor Harry will tell me which of the two I was. I get the feeling I did something really stupid and can't remember doing it.

Harry still has some things to work out from the war. He has trouble sleeping at night, but things are getting better. He and Hermione often walk around the castle or the lake in the evenings, and before he was allowed to leave the hospital wing, she went and stayed with him a lot. I went everyday, but she was there whenever time allowed.

I see Harry and Hermione over near the grate leaned over books, studying for the N.E.W.T.S. and I must say I'm glad things are working out for them. They can finally come out in the open with their relationship, which they did at the party the other night. They were surprised to discover that most of Gryffindor House knew of their dating, but had kept silent on the matter because neither Harry nor Hermione had said anything about it. Harry had asked since when did that stop anyone from spreading around the latest gossip. Parvati and Lavender spoke up and said something that I'll find hard to forget: "Because, Harry, you and Hermione don't spread gossip around about us – never have. We decided it was time to repay you. Not only that, but we knew that you wouldn't keep things from us as seemingly trivial as your relationship without a good reason. We figured that Ron knew, but you three are the Trio, and if you didn't say something about it, we weren't either."

The look on Harry's face was one of amazement and the deepest thanks. I felt the same way. Oftentimes, my housemates annoy me like mad, but in that moment, I knew that they really cared. I wondered how much more they knew, but didn't bother to ask. They were obviously more observant than I gave them credit for. What they said made me as proud as I've ever been to be a Gryffindor, and I'm sure that Harry and Hermione feel the same way.

We still have a long way to go to get over what all we've been through. I still shudder at the thought of some of what I've seen, but I'm getting better. I feel more normal than I have in a couple of years. The N.E.W.T.s are next week, and then soon after, we have graduation. It's exciting, yet scary thinking of leaving these protective walls behind. I'm going to work for the Department of Magical Games and Sports in a few weeks. It'll be nice. Hermione's going to work in the research division of the Ministry. I think she'll be focusing on spells: their history, how they work, and other stuff like that, but I'm sure she'll look up other things too. Harry was the biggest surprise. He had planned on being an auror back in our fifth year, but since being in the war and working with the DA, he has decided that he much prefers teaching people how to defend themselves. He signed up to go to a teacher training school for a year, and after that, he's going to come and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for Hogwarts.

The common room is quiet now. I look over to see that Harry has fallen asleep on his notes and Hermione is looking at him in amusement. She stretches and yawns before quietly gathering up her materials. I gather mine up as well, and go over to help her get Harry awake.

She stands beside me and looks down at him. "I guess he still has some recuperating to do."

I laugh quietly and nod my head in agreement. "Well, you get his stuff together, Hermione, and I'll get him upstairs and into bed." She sighs quietly and bends to pick up his books and parchment. I rouse Harry enough so that he can walk to the dorm and the three of us make our way up the boy's staircase; Harry leaning heavily on me and Hermione bringing up the rear with Harry's things and mine. We finally get him laid down and Hermione bids me goodnight before turning to leave. I glance over at my friend and once again thank whoever's watching out for him and keeping him alive.

The next thing I know, I'm in dreamland…

* * *

**A/N: Well, here's another thing to keep you reading for awhile. I hoped that you liked it. Please review. I'll be ever so grateful if you do. Have a good one! ; )**


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